He's Not Alright
by TheMysticalQ
Summary: A depressing little fic I came up with due to the recent events in my life, in which Pip has a less than happy ending. Inspired by I'm Not Alright, by Sanctus Real. Hope you enjoy it.


Author's Note: I haven't been in the brightest mood lately... And when I heard this song, I thought of a broken, bloody Pip. I think listening to I'm Not Alright by Sanctus Real while reading this would make for a better experience.

Disclaimer: I hope to God this never ends up in an episode or movie... If it does, then you'll know I've somehow gained ownership over South Park.

Pip smiled as he waved at Damien, a bright smile on his face. "Good evening, Damien. How are you today?"

Damien only sneered at him, annoyed by the Brit's cheery attitude. "Kindly kill yourself, and spare me the effort."

Pip's smile grew more forced, though it didn't show on the outside, a sharp pang striking his heart at the words from his secret crush. "Silly... That would hardly require any effort at all."

Damien smirked at the other. "No, it wouldn't. And do you know how many people would care? Zero. Someone like you... Weak," he spat out the word in disgust. "Pathetic. A pushover. Honestly, why don't you do us all a favor and off yourself already? It'd be much better than seeing your face every day."

Pip continued to smile, even though he didn't feel anything positive. "I would love to keep talking to you, but I have to go now. Goodbye, Damien." He turned around and whispered to himself. "Forever."

Damien, having enhanced senses because of his demonic heritage, caught the whispered word, but didn't think anything of it. 'Maybe he's finally leaving South Park.' For some reason, this thought... Angered the demon? But why would he feel angry? 'It's only because I need someone to take out my anger on. That's all. He doesn't mean anything to me.' Somehow, in the back of his mind, Damien didn't truly believe this statement... 'Whatever. The blonde's gone now anyway.'

Pip opened the door to the tiny house he lived in, stepping through the doorway, and dropped the smile he'd forced onto his face for nearly all his life. Sighing, he closed the door and locked it behind him. He crossed the living room, eager to get to his bedroom. Unzipping the jacket he always wore, numerous pale scars were revealed up and down the length of his arms. Some, inflicted by others. Some... Not so much. Pip knew that this wasn't alright... But then again, neither was he. He'd put up a wall of fake happiness to hide behind for so long to avoid the pain of the insults, the humiliation, and the suffering that he endured every day, that he eventually stopped feeling. He didn't notice it at first because it was such a gradual change, but he found that his smiles and emotions weren't forced or fake only when he was around Damien. He thought he'd had a friend in him, but judging by his words to him today... He didn't feel the same way. "Don't worry, Damien," he whispered to himself, "I'm about to make everyone happy."

Opening the door to his room, he walked inside and made his way to his bed. Pip slid his hand under his pillow, feeling the cold steel of the knife he kept there at all times, and grabbed it. He pulled the knife out, looking at his reflection in it. "This is where we say goodbye, old friend." He brought the knife down on his left arm, making shallow cuts on his pale skin, which soon turned red from his blood. He made deeper, longer cuts, and as he did, he started to cry. "Why..." Pip whimpered. "W-why can't anyone just love me?" He thought of Damien, how he seemed to not even care he existed, and screamed out in unrestrained anger, slashing at his arm. "It's all your fault! If-if you had just cared about me, I wouldn't be so broken that I almost never feel ANYTHING!" Tears and blood were both flowing freely now, and as the slash marks on his arm increased, his head felt light and airy. He collapsed on the ground, leaning against the bed, moving his arm slower now. Pip sniffled, tears slowing a bit. "Why can't you just love me..." His eyes slid shut for the last time, and as he bled out, a small smile appeared on his face. "God... Forgive me... I know I won't be seeing your face anytime soon for this... But I can feel myself getting closer to death... And Hell... So maybe, once he finds out what happened... I'll be able to be with Damien... And he can fix me. I know it's a foolish hope, but... If he knew... Maybe he would care..." Pip gave out a shuddering sigh, sinking into unconsciousness. His body stopped moving... His heart stopped beating... Phillip "Pip" Pirrup was dead.

Author's Note: I don't really like how this turned out... I feel like I didn't quite capture exactly how Pip felt. If you have any suggestions on how to make this better, I'd love to hear them.

Vladimir: She's gotten a bit rusty in her writing skills lately, so she really needs this.

Me: Shut up, Vlad. Anyway, please review... Favorite if you want, though I don't think that will happen. This fic is complete and utter crap.


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